


reflection

by yuletide_archivist



Category: The Sandman (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-19
Updated: 2006-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1633469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delight and Delirium and lost things that are found again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mirkat

 

 

She is a long time ago.

And she is now, too, even if she knows she is supposed to be gone. Or perhaps supposed is too strong a word; it tastes too harsh whenever she thinks it, like sharp raindrops on skin, like a secret that was not worth learning. But it is true, or at least true enough.

She is here, for a moment, at the shimmering edge of a laugh. There, just out of sight, dancing to the music of the rainbow's end. In the first tentative touch of lips against lips. Champagne bubbles. Lost things that are suddenly found again.

And maybe it is just the idea of her - she knows that just because she is gone does not mean that what she meant ceased to exist as well - but it makes her happy to pretend that it is still her, at least a little.

Sometimes, very rarely, she sees things in her mind, for just a moment, as clear as if it were really her eyes looking at it. A familiar garden, a path she walked on before, dancers, flowers, cherries, fish. A lot of fish.

Most of the time, there is nothing. Where she is - and she is not quite sure exactly where it is that she is - it is black everywhere she can see. She is used to it now; it is inevitable, but not unfriendly. And behind her she can feel the sunset wrapping its warm colors around her shoulders, and she can still smile.

And one day she wakes up, or wakes up more (and she thinks there must be a word for that, for suddenly waking up and realizing that even though you thought you were as awake as you could be, you were wrong; she wonders if she has forgotten it), and the blackness in front of her is lifted away and she is looking at a ballroom, a hallway, a ship's cabin, a basement, all on top of each other or a part of each other. And there is a girl there, confused blue and green eyes and surprised purple and green hair. She looks like she has been crying.

"You used to be me," says the girl, and it almost hurts to hear her voice although she recognizes that it does not sound so different from her own.

"I think you have it backwards," she says, and it has been a long time since she spoke. It is not easy. "You used to be me."

"That's what I said." She looks annoyed; the tips of her hair flicker like candle flames, or light reflected off an icicle. "Everyone's always correcting me like I don't know what I'm talking about when I do really, I know more what I'm talking about than they do because I am me and I am the one who is doing the talking. Um. Unless it's someone else's turn." Her hair had calmed down. "And it is a lot. I talk to a lot of people. And a lot of people who aren't really people too."

"So did I," she tells the girl.

"I remember," the girl says - she does not want to put a name to her, and she cannot think of her as herself either. "You are not supposed to be here. I don't think. Everyone always says that De-" and there is just a tiny falter in her voice, a miniscule hesitation "Um. Who I used to be was a long time ago. Only sometimes it is just me who says it."

"I don't know why I'm here," she says. "I don't know where I am."

"It's a mirror, of course," the girl says and of course it is a mirror and always has been; she can see the frame just at the edges of her vision. "I thought it was one of Despair's mirrors, but that is a silly thing because then I remembered that I was in my realm, um, place even if it is a place in it that I lost before. But now I found it again. And I would have known if one of her mirrors was here because it would have felt in my head like when you have a song stuck there that no one has ever heard before but it only comes out of your eyes and not your mouth so no one else can hear it. Or you can't think about anything but elephants and the more you try not to the more you cannot help doing it. So then I thought it was a mirror that told you who was the fairest, so I was going to ask the question. But. Um. It was you instead. And the elephants are always so hard to keep track of."

"I'm sure they are," she says, and as she watches fat orange toadstools spring up around the girl's feet. They burst into pieces with popping whispers to reveal little elephants as small as buttons.

"How did it feel?"

And Delight knows that she is asking about the change, even though she has not specified that. "Like my heart was breaking again and again and again," she says. "But you have not forgotten it."

"Maybe. But sometimes when people say things you remember that you are remembering it wrong."

"And were you?"

"Oh, no, not at all, not one little bit, it was exactly like you said. But I didn't know it would be until you said it. Everything is changing, you know, and sometimes they act like I am just sad and silly and don't understand. Like when-" she cuts off suddenly and presses her hands to her mouth. Every nail is a different color. "Um. I have just remembered that I can't tell you about that. It will break your heart again and again and again and then there will be glass all over the floor and I do not mind really but I have a doggie now and doggies are not supposed to eat glass because it is very bad for them I was told this one time by a wise lady and so I gave her some socks that would make her dance all the time but one of them was just a regular sock by mistake."

And Delight wants to ask what will break her heart, but she knows that she will not get an answer. She sees the stubbornness behind the girl's eyes. Instead, she asks another question. "What's it like now?"

"She spins and spins on her one foot like a ballerina and everyone shouts hurrah and gives her ice cream." She illustrates this by spinning around herself and nearly toppling over.

"That sounds very lovely," she says, even though it was not the answer to her question. "Do you-"

But the other girl cuts her off. "Stop asking me questions," she says, her voice sharp and ragged. "I'm tired and it hurts and you are too sad and not at all like I used to be. Is it lonely where you are?"

"Sometimes," says Delight. "But I have a sunset."

"Oh, that is all right then. Sunsets are very good company. I used to have one but it was a long time ago and I have a doggie now instead who I take care of, except it is supposed to be the other way around really. Would you like an elephant?" She reaches down and picks up of the animals that is still running around her feet. "His name is a secret but I can whisper it to you so that you never forget it."

"I would like that. I think."

The girl reaches towards her, but her hand stops before it gets to the frame of the mirror. "I was just pretending before," she says. "It is like being myself all the time and I can peel off my skin and blood and wobbly purple bits over and over again and I think that oh, this time there will be someone else there, but it is always just me." She smiles. "Um. But it's okay sometimes." She reaches forward again, and her hand shimmers through the mirror like nothing was there, and she whispers a name. Delight holds out her hand, and the girl carefully sets the elephant down in her palm, and for a moment their fingers brush together.

She is colors, all the colors that no one has ever thought of. The walls are whispering secrets to her and she must write it all down, must write it down so that it won't be forgotten, write it on her skin, in her heart, on her toes. There's a word in her mouth and if she swallows it her belly will grow and grow and hurt so she has to keep saying it if she keeps saying it it won't hurt her so she says it again and again and again and-

"Oh!" the other girl says and pulls her hand away and disappears, and all Delight can see is the black again, forever and ever wherever she looks. But the sunset curls around her back and there is a secret name in her head and a tiny green elephant is dancing in her hand.

She laughs.

Delirium is walking away from the mirror and it is already far behind her, twisting away down a forgotten path and maybe she will find it again and maybe she won't. "Did you see what she did? She made it go all flowers and pomegranates and snowmen in my head. I thought it would hurt so so bad, but it only made me cry a little."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," says Barnabas. "Then again, I never do."

 

 

 


End file.
